Superficial Silence
by TwoTrack
Summary: Ron and Harry aren’t speaking after Harry’s name has been pulled from the Goblet of Fire. One night, Seamus gets too personal in trying to get Ron to see reason.


**Superficial Silence  
****Story Rating: **T  
**Summary: **Ron and Harry aren't speaking after Harry's name has been pulled from the Goblet of Fire. One night, Seamus gets too personal in trying to get Ron to see reason.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to the Harry Potter books or movies. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling and the producers.  
**A/N: **Hurrah for plot bunnies.

* * *

Ron stared at the wall. Damned thing. And the bed beside it. Dean's bed, not Harry's. Damned beds. Damned Harry.

The door opened and closed behind him, and he froze in bed before he heard a cough that wasn't Harry's, either.

Seamus stood there grinning at him. His hair was plastered to his head. Ron assumed he came from the shower.

"Who'd you think I was?"

He rolled back over to stare at the wall.

Seamus set something down. There was silence for a few moments, then closer, "Who's the bigger prat, the prat that doesn't tell everything to his mates or the one who throws a sissy fit over it?"

"He's the prat."

Ron scowled at the wall. So much for silence. He silently cursed himself and resolved not to answer any more. He didn't know Seamus very well. Why was he sounding interested now?

Suddenly the bed behind him dipped, and from much too close. "I'd reckon it were you."

Ron flinched from the sound and sat up, baffled He stared down at Seamus, who was lounging nonchalantly on the other side of his bed, and only received a raised eyebrow in return.

"The _hell_ d'you think you're doing…"

"Conversing. With one of my mates."

Ron shoved the covers off of him and raised himself to his knees. "And you couldn't do it from your own bed, could you?"

Seamus shrugged and closed his eyes.

Ron's anger increased. He lay his hands on his knees, vacillating between a couple violent courses of action.

"You know you're wrong, don't you?"

He didn't bother to answer.

"You should shag and make up."

"Fuck off."

Only a smirk.

"Queer."

"You're not worried about him spending so much time with Hermione, then?" Still the smirk. "Or maybe you're the queer-"

Ron lunged at him, hands groping for his head. Seamus, not taken by surprised, anticipated the move. He grabbed Ron's wrists and used the boy's momentum to fling them both off the edge of the bed. After a small scuffle he managed to come out on top, straddling Ron and pinning him to the ground.

Ron continued to struggle against him. Seamus's brash attitude, his casually personal remarks, his condescending smirk were all too much.

"Don't bother, Ron." Seamus was amused. He'd never dared be so forward. He had always been so sure that Ron fancied Hermione, but his strong reaction to his earlier comment suggested something more. He looked at the redhead intently. Might as well….

Ron only had time for a short yelp before Seamus's lips cut off further protest. He fought in vain; Seamus was too persistent, too overwhelming.

The pressure was gone suddenly. He began to shout and curse, but didn't have much time then either before Seamus descended once again.

The pattern continued for a few minutes more. Ron felt a sort of choking helplessness. He would never have imagined himself in a situation like this, and so had no idea how to proceed, other than to continue struggling.

Seamus nuzzled his neck. "Relax," he breathed. "You're only fighting yourself. Relax…"

Ron could almost imagine it, what it could be like if he were relaxed. He hesitated, considering…

But then there were footsteps ascending rapidly. Then the weight was gone and he lay gasping on the floor.

Then Harry's voice floated through the door, and Ron scrambled up his bed, forcing his face into his pillow to muffle his breathing. He could hear Harry and Seamus talk, almost cheerfully. Seamus….He was trembling, thinking about the last few minutes…and thinking about it, he didn't know if he shook from fear or excitement.


End file.
